


The Argument

by IncognitoPi



Series: Smile When You Whisper [1]
Category: Johannes Cabal - Jonathan L. Howard
Genre: Consensual NonCon, F/M, Knife Play, angry erections, glovefic, in the beginning there was smut, in which slight of hand is employed, smile when you whisper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 00:11:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10887828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncognitoPi/pseuds/IncognitoPi
Summary: Close quarters can lead to pointless arguments.[Previously posted as an earlier, crappier draft to www.incognitopi.tumblr)





	The Argument

For perhaps the tenth time that evening, Cabal caught himself looking at Miss Barrow.

He hated how attractive she could be when poring over the volume they were translating; the way her tousled golden curls fell before her eyes as she idly chewed the end of her pencil. Abhorrent habit- and yet his gaze dropped to the plush curve of her lips. He whet his own, mouth suddenly dry.

Then she looked up at him questioningly, and he abruptly looked back down at his own paper.

“You spelled _phantom_ with an _f._ That’s incorrect.” He spoke gruffly, feeling as though his suit was too hot for the close attic- normally kept as cool as a hospital operating theatre.  She had said she was cold, and would not allow him to open the skylights.

Leonie frowned down at her page, and then rolled her eyes and sat back. “I thought you wanted a translation, not a Lit essay.” She said, her tone clipped with annoyance.

Cabal arched a brow and stood to take off his severe black jacket, hanging it neatly folded over the back of his chair. All the while, he glared at the criminologist. “A _correct_ translation, _Fräulien_. Spelling is important in these matters, as is pronunciation.”

“Then do it yourself! I don’t even know why you called me.” She huffed, slamming her pencil down as she stood. He could be infuriating, she thought, swallowing as she watched him cuff his shirt sleeves above his elbows. Why was her mouth suddenly so dry?

“Trust me when I say that I would not have asked for your _assistance_ were it not of the utmost importance.” He spoke past gritted teeth, stepping towards her as he finished with his sleeves. “I do not speak Old English well enough to do this by myself. A fact that I can assure you will be remedied in short order.”

Her own blue eyes narrowed, and she balled her fists at her sides as she stepped forward in challenge.

“Then might I suggest you watch your tone when asking such a favor, Herr Cabal.” She snapped, feeling her cheeks heat. “As far as I can tell, it’s _you_ who needs _me,_ and not the other way ‘round!”

He might have slapped her; anger boiling up in his chest at her tone. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and he leaned down slightly as he responded, his accent thick in his low tone:

_“You, Madam Barrow, are the **last** person I need distracting me from my work.” _

“There’s one thing we can agree on!” Leonie hissed, her cheeks and chest burning with an angry blush. He was close enough that she could smell his cologne beneath the chemical sting of his attic laboratory, and her heart was racing. She wasn’t sure if it was from anger, or a deeper desire that she refused to admit.

Cabal’s lips curled back from his teeth in a sneer, his right hand shaking as he brushed a strand of hair like spun gold back from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. _Why had he done that?_ Appalled, he froze in place.

Leonie looked just as surprised as he- and yet she did not move.

For what seemed like an eternity, they simply stared at each other- his hand hovering near the side of her neck before lowering to her shoulder, the other joining as if to circle around her neck. Leonie’s eyes widened, her breathing quickening as adrenaline flooded her system and fight or flight response kicked in. Still, she did not move: her own pretty mouth twisting in an expression of anger.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Leonie’s voice came out sounding far more shrill than she would have liked.

_It would be satisfying,_ came the thought uninvited, and yet Cabal was unsure if strangling her was what he really meant. His hands did close around her slender throat, giving an experimental squeeze as if to test the resistance of her flesh. _It would be so easy._

Without forethought or reason and still holding her neck in his hands, he leaned down and kissed her fiercely- tasting her teeth and tongue and the sweetness of the startled gasp she gave.

_“What do you think you’re doing?! Cad!”_ Leonie shoved him back against his desk and then slapped his face in a rage.

For the space of half a minute, Cabal looked at Leonie in shock. She had slapped him. His cheek felt warm where her fingers had been; his blue tinted spectacles knocked from his face to crack upon the floorboards between their feet. Seething, a low growl slipped past clenched teeth. _She had slapped him._

Neither Cabal nor Leonie was sure whom had moved first, or if they were really fighting at all. He raised his hand to slap her back- she grabbed his wrist- he pushed her back against the desk. Then of a sudden they were kissing: her teeth scoring his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. His hand cupped the back of her neck firmly as she shoved her back atop his desk.

_“I hate you,”_ She hissed into his mouth and slapped his chest- her tweed skirt bunching as she wrapped her legs around the backs of his.

_“Deplorable woman. Meddler. Nuisance!”_ He growled against her ear, beginning to place firm kisses and bites along the curve of her throat. His hands gripped her sides, counting her ribs through the fabric of her dress. He simultaneously wanted to kill her and possess her, but then she bit his shoulder and the thought was lost. Gripping her hips firmly, he pulled her flush against him and pressed his hips forward between her thighs- he did not care if he left bruises.

_“Asshole! Psychopath!”_ Leonie moaned and tilted her head back as she dragged her nails down the backs of his shoulders. Her legs circled his waist more fully, and her hands moved to tear the front of his shirt open- causing buttons to fly off and clack far across the polished floor as she exposed his toned chest.

_“Schweigen!”_ He silenced her with a growl and kissed her mouth hard, one hand running up her thigh beneath her skirt in his fervor to find the cotton band of her knickers crossing her hip. Clipped fingernails dragged over her hipbone and then he delved his fingers between her thighs to seek the heat he knew was there. _Deplorable woman. She likes it._

That irrational thought cause him to groan into her mouth; their kiss a feral and unending thing. She bit his lip again, drawing blood. He began to rub circles between her legs, gripping one of her thighs to draw it roughly up and around his hip. She gasped against his mouth and whimpered pathetically. It made him smile to feel her submit- his loins straining against the dark wool of his trousers.

_“Do **not** tell me… what to do!” _ Leonie gasped through a moan as she pulled away from his kiss; turning her face away from his and closing her eyes. She couldn’t look at him: not with his surgeon’s fingers moving so precisely against her clit through the thin silk of her knickers. She was wet- and wanted to hate him for it. Her cheeks burning, she bit his shoulder and clutched at his sides with sharp little fingers, drawing another growl from the Necromancer.

He pushed her back down flat against the desk, his fingers leaving her to knock papers and books to scatter across the floor.

Then came the sharp sound of his switchblade being drawn; cold blue eyes locked on her face as he cut through the straps of her garter and the gusset of her knickers with surgical precision. The blade was cold against her heated skin, and yet his skill was such that he did not cut her. Leonie froze in fear and arousal, looking up at Cabal with wide eyes. She hardly felt the blade as elastic sprung free.

His smile was half-sneer, and he suddenly stabbed the tip of the blade down into the corner of his desktop before leaning over her- pushing her blouse up- his mouth marking the sensitive flesh of her bosom. At the same time, he plunged his fingers deep inside her tight sex and sought her most sensitive areas with all the knowledge of a physician practiced in treating hysteria.

Leonie cried out sharply and tangled her fingers in his hair as her back bowed and arched off the desktop, all thought driven from her mind with the feral intensity of his skilled touch. Her legs trembled around his waist, and as his hot mouth closed over the sensitive peak of her breast, she bucked her hips against his fingers in sudden climax.

Cabal groaned as she tugged his hair, smiling wickedly as he felt her pleasure slicken his hand. He withdrew and made short work of his trousers to free himself, and then caught Leonie looking at him with a wanton expression.

It was _infuriating,_ how he wanted her.

Taking hold of Leonie’s hips with both hands, he flipped her atop the desk until she was bent over his desktop. One foot pushed her ankles into a wide stance, fingers coiling in her golden hair to lightly tug her head back. She was on tiptoe; arched and clutching at the edge of his desk- petal lips parting in a soft _O._

Teasingly, Cabal leaned down and bit her neck again as he rubbed the swollen tip of his manhood along her slick folds, his mouth moving to capture the delicate shell of her ear.

Leonie gasped and gave a small yelp of surprise which he enjoyed- his low belly tight and warm in his need for release. In response, Leonie moaned and bucked back against him- causing a glass flask to fall from the edge of his desk and smash upon the floor.

_“Verdammnt fräulien, always a distraction!”_ He growled as he pressed himself within her; his left hand moving to grip her hip as her body accepted him. Without pause but moving slowly, he thrust until she had enveloped him completely; the deliciously tight heat of her body nearly sending him to his end before he had begun.

Forcing himself to pause, Johannes pulled her upright against his chest and ran his hands over her bare chest, wanting to see if she would submit to him.

Leonie could not form words to respond as Cabal’s length filled her sex _so completely._ Although certainly not a virgin, she had no real love life to speak of, and his girth was impressive enough to remind her of her inexperience as her body trembled and fought to adjust to his size. He breathed a groan in reaction against her ear, and she nearly climaxed just from the sound as her inner walls clenched around him. _“Oh God.. o-oh..! Y-you called..”_ she managed to reply, her legs trembling.

In answer, Cabal firmly gripped her hip and the front of her neck and began to thrust- his movements methodical and deep. He could feel her pulse racing beneath his fingers, and he gave another little squeeze around her neck to remind her of who was in control.

_“You came.”_ He answered in a throaty whisper against her ear, smiling as he felt her sex clench and grow wetter around him in response. She was enjoying it; his control. His hand slipped from her hip to delve between her legs and circle her clit rapidly, the other moving from her neck to her shoulder. Forcing her down against his desktop once more, he moved with a deep, fast rhythm.

He wanted her to orgasm again. He wanted her to _submit._

Leonie gasped and whimpered and moaned with each thrust- the toes of her shoes barely touching the floor as he pushed her back down. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak- his length brushing against a place within her that made her see stars with each hard thrust. Her hands found the edge of his desk in a white-knuckle grip, her lips parting as each breath became a moan.

The sight of her like that- debased atop his desk and wanton for every second of it- only drove Cabal on. He smiled wickedly and leaned down against her back, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. _“Come for me, fräulien.”_ He whispered, his accent thick as his body began to swell as his own climax drew near.

That was all it took. Hearing him growl those words sent Leonie over her peak- white hot bliss filling her mind and driving all else away in a cascade of purse sensation. She cried out in a shivering moan- her nails raking across his desktop.

Cabal’s hands gripped her hips and he cursed against her ear in a long-dead tongue, his thrusts growing harder; more frantic. His lips and teeth found the curve of her neck and shoulder, and with a strangled moan that sounded more like the cry of a wild animal, he pressed deep and held himself there with twitching thrusts as he spilled himself in her unprotected sex.

For him, the world melted away in numb bliss; only the sensation of her heat, her curves, the sound of her moans coming through his pleasurable haze. Then, slowly, rationality came back and he seemed to realize what had happened.

Without a word, he gently separated and fixed his trousers, looking down at her where she still lay so lewdly atop his desk. His lip twitched when he saw his seed spilling down her inner thighs, and he hoped that she was the sensible type and took some form of contraceptive.

Leonie was breathless, flushed and somewhat numb in her afterglow as she shakily righted herself. Her body was sore ( _in all the right ways,_ ) and she knew there would be at least a week of high-necked blouses and jumpers until the marks of his teeth had faded from her neck and chest. Her knickers were not only ruined, but missing, and with an expression of annoyance, she tied the cut elastic of her garter back together.

“You didn’t have to ruin my clothes.” She said quietly, though her tone lacked the ire she would have liked.

Cabal simply looked at her, his white shirt hanging open for lack of buttons. Then his eyes took in her disheveled state, and a hint of a smile twitched at one corner of his mouth. Saying nothing, he turned away to clean up the mess of papers.


End file.
